Page 93

Anita takes a chair, swirling it closer to me. I would have rather her sat on me. Parked her ass right on my cock. I graze my thumb over the bandages on my middle and pointer finger as I continue to admire her. She surprised me with that dinner. I don't like mushrooms, but the effort she put into having it there and ready instantly made me love the disgusting vegetable. Then the game. That fucking game...a grin folds over my lips. Let's just say that's an interesting game that I wish I’ve known about before. To play with my enemies, of course. I’ll be incorporating that into my next torture session when I get the fucker behind it all. Instead of missing the limb, I’ll deliberately stab them in each finger with a gigantic smile on my face.
I’m guessing she can feel my eyes burning into her because she turns her head to me and her brows dip, creating a pretty crease that her nose scrunches and a low smile plays on her lips. Her dark eyes glaze over with a gleam, and she tilts her head slightly. I want to kiss her bad, I need to feel her soft lips on mine like last night and subtly this morning. I’m ready to say fuck it and fuck you to everyone around.
Tread carefully.
The voice in the back of my mind warns. To trap the snake, you must give it bait, make it come to you. I nod at her and look back at Mal, pulling myself together before my dick gets hard.
“Nothing. There’s nothing tracing back on the number.” I filled them in on everything, including the pendants I’ve been finding since this all started.
That information perks them both up, their eyes glaring at the screen that Bedford switches to.
“A symbol?” Anita says, glancing back at me curiously, then at the screen again.
“It's atrocious. Someone needs a better designer,” Mal jokes, kicking her boots up onto Bedford's desk.
He glares at her and pushes them off. “Don't put your disgusting shoes on my things. Do you know how many germs you carry, especially your shoes?”
Mal scoffs with a playful glint to her eyes, placing her hands up. “Alright, Charming.”
He shoots menacing daggers at her, then plasters a stiff smile for Anita and gets back to business. “You can find this symbol all over. And by all over, I mean it.”
He clicks his keyboard, and a spread of photos appears.
“What the fuck,” I murmur, sitting straight up, a dreadful twist curling in my chest. Pictures of different people, walking idly on the street, some caught at dances, some men, and women, some wearing long black wool coats, fancy attire. Jewelry brightening the pixel pictures with the centipede either fully shown or halfway tucked beneath a collar of a suit. It's not the rich fucks that makes my head throb but the ones that snapped with mayors, senators, popes, the goddamn presidents of different countries.
“Is that Richard Cree?” Anita grits, looking at Bedford. I can see the rage rolling to the surface, ready to scorch the computer.
“I said I meant ‘all over.” Bedford points his black painted nail at the photo. “It goes back as far as 1994.”
“Well shit.” Mal glowers at the photos.
“This symbol.” Anita stares at it then tilts her head. “I’ve seen this symbol.”
I frown. “When?”
She turns to me and nods. “I’ve seen it on Joe. It was tattooed on his chest after I carved it. I thought it was so odd.”
I shake my head, my pulse rising along with my temper. If I see any of these people on the street, I’m murdering them in plain sight.
“Wait, you carved a man’s chest?” Bedford asks, looking at Anita in awe.
I continue thinking. “So, you don't need to have a pendant. It could be anyone on the street, inked with that symbol, and not even know.” I clasp my hands, and my eyes naturally look around the data room. My paranoia inches in like fog on the horizon. I glance at each person besides Mal, Bedford, and Anita.
No, no. None of my people or my team would be involved in this shit. I relax against my seat, but my shoulders are still tight with tension.
“Should we find each person involved in this? And kill them?” I gaze at Anita as her hand gravitates toward her dagger.
“Oh, I love the sound of that. Count me in,” Mal quips with vicious excitement.
I shake my head at Anita specifically. “You’re still hurt; you can't go back out on the field.”
Her eyes darken. “I only need my hand, my dagger, or a gun to kill someone, nothing more, nothing less.”
I pinch my nose. “You have orders to stay put and not to overexert yourself. You need to heal. I’ll go to the first man on the list. Richard Cree.”
Our own damn mayor. I can't wait to snap his neck.
“While I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing. I’m not staying,” Anita says, looking me in the eyes.